Hermione's Gift
by molicious261
Summary: The story behind Ron's Christmas gift for Hermione in Ootp. Hermione and Ron have a heart-to-heart after she gets a package from her parents. R/Hr


**Title:** Hermione's Gift

**Characters: **R/Hr, Harry is in there for a moment

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry, Ron, or Hermione, as much as I may wish to.

**A/N:** So, I finally decided to type this up. I always thought it was adorable that Ron bought Hermione perfume, and I just thought that something must have given him the idea, because let's face it... as wonderful as he is, he is not the sharpest tool in the shed. At least not when it comes to romance. But I've always thought he was way more observant when it came to Hermione than he let on, and I've also always thought that Hermione, as much as she loves her books, must get annoyed at being catagorized as bookworm. I mean, the girl is awesome is so many ways. So, that's where the idea came from really. And I hope you enjoy!

As the daily mail wafted down to its recipients from the owls hovering above, Hermione Granger's eyes widened. A massive parcel had landed in front of her, accompanied by her usual Daily Prophet. It was so large, she had to crane her neck in order to see the equally shocked expressions of her best friends', Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.

After a moment of bewildered silence, Ron spoke. "Uh, Hermione, I think your mail's here," he said, grinning broadly.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out, Ron," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes, but returning his smile. "Who could have sent this?"

"Did you order any school supplies lately? Like, did you need a new potions kit or something?" Harry asked, adjusting his glasses as he stared at the colossal package.

"_Potions kit_? Bloody hell, that thing looks big enough to be a_ cauldron_!" Ron snorted.

"No, I haven't ordered anything," Hermione replied, deep in thought. "Oh wait, there's a note," she added, noticing a tiny piece of parchment taped to the side. She plucked it off and began to read, as Ron examined the dimensions of the package.

"Hagrid's ordered a chimera and he's sent it to you as a way of sneaking it into the castle," Ron cracked, as he finished sizing up the parcel. Harry laughed, but Hermione, who had stopped reading the note, was staring at the box with a slight frown. "What's wrong? Who's it from?" Ron asked, noting her displeasure.

"My parents," she said in an even tone. Harry and Ron exchanged glances. It was quite odd for Hermione to be anything less than thrilled when she received news from her family. Considering they lived in two different worlds, Hermione found it important to maintain regular correspondence with her parents. She needed reassurance that all was well, as did they.

"Apparently, they sent me a belated gift to celebrate me becoming a prefect," Hermione continued, still staring at the box with dislike.

"Really? Well that's excellent. I wonder what it is," Harry said brightly, examining the package again.

"I know what it is," Hermione said darkly, crumpling up her parents note in her fist. With a flick of her wand, Hermione began to open the box. The paper shot neatly off the sides, and the entire parcel fell open at once, revealing a hefty tower of- "Books," Hermione declared, replacing her wand in her pocket.

"What the _hell_ did they do, rob a library?" Ron cried, taking in the immense stack of literature teetering in front of him. Hermione let out an involuntary chuckle and actually cracked a small smile.

"Well, I think it's great, Hermione. That's really nice of your parents," Harry said, studying the cover of Medieval Evile. "This must be the best present you've ever gotten. I mean, it's a whole pile of books!" With that, the tiny trace of contentment faded from Hermione's face.

"Yes, well… I need to get these upstairs now," she said quietly. Harry looked at her strangely for a minute, before shrugging and returning to his breakfast, but Ron could not ignore that little tinge of sadness in her voice.

"I'll help you," he said suddenly, rising from his chair. "Seriously, you're going to break your back carrying these things." Hermione nodded and the two of the grabbed a handful of books. They remained silent as they left the Great Hall and climbed the stone staircases, each waiting for the other to speak first. For one, Ron knew that Hermione wanted to talk because she could have easily cast a levitation spell to carry her books to her room effortlessly, just as Hermione knew that Ron wanted to talk because under normal circumstances his laziness would far surpass his chivalry, and he would leave Hermione to fend for herself. Finally, as they entered the Portrait Hole, Ron grew weary of the silence and blurted out what was bothering him.

"So why exactly do you hate these things?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the stack of (heavy) books in his arms.

"I don't _hate_ them," Hermione groaned immediately, rolling her eyes. Most of the time Ron seemed completely oblivious to her thoughts and feelings, yet every once in a while he seemed to know exactly what was going through her head. It was a bit annoying really. Ron stopped walking to shoot her a look, identical to the one she often shot him after he made up some ridiculous excuse for why he wasn't doing his homework.

"I don't!" she insisted. "I really appreciate the gesture, I just…" Hermione trailed off, and with a sigh, collapsed on the couch, placing her books neatly on the table.

"What?" Ron asked, joining her, dropping his pile of books haphazardly on the floor.

"Well… it's just _so_ predictable," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

"What is?"

"Me!" she cried. "And what I get for gifts. It's like everyone thinks I'm some sort of _dull_ bookworm- and I know what you're going to say," Hermione snapped at Ron, who was about to interrupt. "That I _am_ one because all I ever do is read, and I'm practically a walking library, but you know what? I'm bloody sick of it!" Hermione burst. Ron watched her seethe for a moment.

Then he said, "I don't think you're dull."

"Oh, yes you do," Hermione sighed, slouching.

"No, I don't. I think you're a bookworm, but I definitely don't think you're dull. I think you're pretty interesting," Ron said, an unreadable expression on his face. "And I don't think you're a bookworm in a _bad_ way. You like to read a lot, that's all. I guess it's sort of a… term of endearment or something," he added, struggling with his thoughts slightly. For the first time in the conversation, Hermione looked over at him. It may not have been a very passionate admission, but Ron's words made Hermione blush. She needed to hear a compliment right about then, and she felt a rush of affection for him that she knew she would never feel for anyone else, not even Harry.

"Do you know that my parents have given me books for my birthday and for Christmas every year since I was 10? Harry's given me books every year since we've met and so has Ginny," Hermione said. "You've even given my books the past three Christmases. Am I really so simple that all I could possibly want is a book?" Ron looked guilty as he tried to think of a way to calm her.

"No, of course not. You're the exact opposite of simple, Hermione," Ron said with a small laugh. "I don't know, I guess people just figure that since you love to read, they know you'll enjoy a good book. They-they just want to make sure you like what they get you," Ron explained.

"I can understand that they want to get me something they know I'll appreciate, but I feel like nobody even cares anymore. Like anything that's been printed and bound together is something I'd like," Hermione sighed. "I just wish that for once, somebody would give me something special, or at least try to. Something that tells me they thought about me for more than a second. Like last week was Parvati's birthday, and her parents bought her this beautiful bracelet with stars and planets all over it." Hermione recalled. "I like bracelets. I like jewelry and perfume and all sorts of 'girly' things, but no one's ever thought of giving me something like that as a gift."

"I know you like that stuff. You wear vanilla perfume every day," Ron said, and then realized how incriminating that sounded. He looked away, his ears turning crimson. Hermione herself was a soft pink, and was also averting her eyes.

"Yes, I do actually," she said, trying to act as though her stomach wasn't doing somersaults due to Ron's observation. "My point is people don't seem to get that, while I certainly love reading, I have other interests, and it's getting a bit tiring. Not to mention," Hermione said lifting up one of her books and scanning the cover. "My parents didn't seem to realize that I've read half of these books already."

"You _have_?" Ron cried, half-amused, half-sympathetic.

"Yes," Hermione murmured, smiling a little. "Oh well. Thanks for listening, Ron. I needed to get that off my chest," she said, levitating her books as she headed up to the Girl's Dorms.

"No problem," Ron said, also rising. "And, Hermione," he added, looking her dead in the eye, causing her to freeze. "Not _everybody_ thinks you're as predictable as you think."

Two months later, when she was in bed, clutching a fancy bottle of perfume in one hand, and a sloppily scrawled note reading "Merry Christmas- Love, Ron" in the other, Hermione finally understood how right he was.


End file.
